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PROLOGUE
Starla
Six Years Ago . . .
I shut my eyes, forcing my fears into the back of my mind. He’s not going to do anything. He’s only going to come in here and taunt me like he always does.
Inhaling deeply, I get back to scrubbing the days-old grease off the plates my mother and Eli have left on the counter. It’s like they think I’m their fucking maid.
I hear the sound of footsteps approaching, starting off soft on the carpet before growing louder and louder as they make their way to the worn-down linoleum in the kitchen.
I slowly open my eyes and feel a shiver run down my spine. My heart races as I sense his presence behind me, his piercing gaze fixed on my body.
I glance up and spot my stepfather, Eli, in the reflection of the window. Swallowing hard, I focus on the dishes in my hands. Maybe if I ignore him he’ll leave me alone.
The stench of old cigarettes and whiskey grows stronger. I know all too well he’s not going to leave me alone. He’s here to torment me, just like every other time my mother’s out of the house.
A calloused hand runs up the back of my thigh. “She’s gonna be gone for a while today. I know the way you’ve been lookin’ at me. You’re eighteen now, so we can do whatever we want.”
As I scrub the dishes in hot, soapy water, I clench my jaw and take a deep breath. This is going to go one of two ways. I’m either going to stick up for myself, or allow him to put fear into me yet again.
My hands shake as I place each dish into the drying rack. A sense of dread fills me as I wait for his voice to start its usual barrage of insults while touching me inappropriately.
I muster up as much courage as I can. “I don’t want to do anything with you. All I’m doing is getting the dishes done before my shift tonight.”
He snickers lightly, his fingertips dancing over my skin. “Ah, I didn’t even notice you’re wearing this cute little uniform.”
His fingers slowly trail up to my ass, and waves of disgust ripple through me. The fabric of my uniform makes me feel like I’m suffocating as I resist the urge to push him away.
I know what will happen if I try to tell him to stop. He’ll get aggressive, and then he’ll hit me.
He grabs a handful of my ass and squeezes hard. I swallow, holding back any reaction. I can’t fucking do this anymore. “I have to get to work. My shift starts in an hour.”
He whistles, and I know I’ve done it. I’ve pissed him off. “You’re only a ten-minute walk from the diner. We’ve got plenty of time to have fun.”
I shake my head. “I don’t have time. I said I’d get there early today.”
Eli roughly grabs me by the hair and yanks me with so much force I lose my footing and slam into the refrigerator. The impact knocks the breath out of my lungs, and I hit the ground with a thud.
Fury consumes every feature on his face as he towers over me, sneering in the menacing way he always has. I’d call Eli a monster, but he’s much worse than that.
Eli is a savage.
Eli squats down and cocks his head to the side. “You’re not a child anymore, Starla, and there’s nothing holding me back now.”
He reaches out and puts his hand around my throat, forcing me to look at his wrinkled sixty-year-old self. “You can keep telling me no, but I’m going to get what I want.”
I swallow hard against the vice grip he has on my throat. His sparse hair is a messy blend of blond and white, and his whiskey-soaked breath fills my nostrils. I hate the smell of whiskey because of him.
Why did my mom have to leave? She wasn’t supposed to leave until I left for my shift.
I guess that’s the problem with drug addicts: you can never trust a word they say.
I’ve told her so many times about Eli staring at me and how he’s touched me inappropriately. She tells me I’m lying because I want attention, but I don’t. If anything, I’d rather not have anyone’s attention.
A cold, paralyzing fear takes over my entire body as Eli’s grip tightens around my neck. There’s no way for me to get out of this situation, even if I’m so desperate to get away.
The man isn’t going to take no for an answer. That much is clear.
